


Damned If You Do, Dead If You Don't

by Ashr



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fingering, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fuck Or Die, Giant Spiders, Half-Sibling Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seriously with the Spiders, Sex Pollen, Spiders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashr/pseuds/Ashr
Summary: Being held captive and tortured sucks. It really does. So when his half-sibling Thomas is bleeding out in front of his eyes, just how far is Harry prepared to go in order to try and save them both?
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Thomas Raith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Damned If You Do, Dead If You Don't.

Harry let out a yell of impotent fury as he threw himself at the door again, the heavy wood once more shaking in its frame but absolutely refusing to budge. It was ancient oak, thicker and tougher than some of the walls of the cookie-cutter houses people tended to throw up these days. The bruises lining Harry’s arms and shoulders told him that it wasn’t going to give way no matter how many times he’d launched at it over the past five days. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. He muttered a curse, rubbing at his abused shoulder, and crossed the room to flop down onto the soaking wet stone floor that had been his bed for the past five days.

He still didn’t know where he was or who was holding him captive, but whoever or whatever it was, it wasn’t human. It infuriated him that he couldn’t even work out how they had been able to sneak up close enough to ambush him without triggering his senses. ‘Infuriated’ was a better word than ‘terrified’, after all. He had been sedated and woken up God only knows how much time later in this dark, dank little room. The room had a fairly steep downwards incline running from the back wall towards the door, long channels in the wall letting through a constant stream of water that flowed down and kept the floor like a shallow river, keeping Harry’s magic dissipated. He’d been naked, stripped of his staff and blasting rod, and without them he was all but helpless to escape. He couldn’t focus his magic, couldn’t summon any energy from the world around him as it was constantly flooded by the running water, and he wasn’t strong enough to brute-force his way out.

“Use your… head next time… Save us from all the noise.”

Harry’s dark eyes glanced over to the far wall of the cell in the direction of the faint voice. In the dull light coming from the ancient bulb hanging overhead, he could just about make out Thomas hanging suspended from his wrists. “Maybe I should just swing off you and use you as a wrecking ball.”

Harry had seen his half-brother in some awful states before following a fight or injury, but even in the worst of those days there had always been something ethereal about the vampire. Even Harry had to admit that he was unbearably beautiful, every line of his body and the air of his being perfectly designed to lure in his prey… but there was none of that evident now. His cascading black locks had been hacked off to a messy mop of top of his head, his porcelain skin blackened and bruised, covered in open, bleeding wounds. Wounds that would have killed a human ten times over but merely weakened Thomas; wounds that would heal if he had a chance to feed. Whoever or whatever it was that had them trapped here, they had no love for vampires, or for Thomas in particular.

Once a day (or what Harry assumed was a day – it was impossible to tell for sure in the windowless room) a pipe would appear under the edge of the door and pump gas into the room. Everything would go spinny and dark, and when Harry woke up Thomas would be in an even worse state than before. Whatever tortures they inflicted upon him, he wouldn’t talk about it. He just hung there, mostly in silence, save for the odd little quip. That was how Harry knew that his brother was fading fast. Normally it was near impossible to get Thomas to shut up, especially when faced with his brother being an idiot and repeating the same thing over and over again, like the door was going to eventually take pity on him and decide to let him out this time.

But Harry refused to think about his brother fading just as fiercely as he was refusing to think about his own diminishing strength. He’d already been forced to succumb to drinking the filthy water flowing across the floor, but five days without food and with very little sleep were really starting to take their toll. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and his nagging headache was beginning to morph into a fierce migraine. The dizzy spells were becoming more and more frequent, and he was sure half the bruises littering his body were caused by him bumping into the walls rather than from his failed escape attempts. Harry knew that if they didn’t get out soon, they would both die in here. Knowing it was not the same as admitting it though, and he had never been one to go down without a fight.

For what felt like hours Harry sat in the soaked cell, staring at the door and trying to come up with something – anything – that might give him a chance to escape. So deep was he in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the pipe being stuck under the door until he smelled that now familiar bitter scent of the gas. “Seriously? Is once a day not enough for you? I know I’m pretty, but you don’t have to… knock me out… to… sta…” Darkness took over, and Harry’s exhausted mind almost welcomed it.

Almost.

Harry woke up fitfully, as he always did, and dragged his groggy body to its feet. He stumbled, smacked against the wall, but eventually managed to make his legs work long enough to be able to support his weight. In his drowsy state he launched at the door, but it was just as unrelenting as ever. He all but fell against it, sliding down the damp wood until he was in a heap leaning against it. Slowly he managed to shuffle around to look over at Thomas, but something was desperately wrong. Well, even more desperately wrong than before.

Thomas was no longer shackled to the wall. He lay crumpled in a heap on the floor in the far corner, unmoving, the water flooding away from him stained with blood.

“Fuck! Thomas!” Harry half crawled and half threw himself across the room, desperation coursing through his body like a tsunami. Panic and fury battled for control of his mind, torn between fear for his brother and rage for whoever it was that was doing this. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder, carefully rolling him over to assess the damage.

The vampire was pale. Well, he was always pale, but this was a paleness that went beyond his mere skin tone. His entire energy and force of life was flat, like someone had switched off the machine that powered him. He was breathing but only just, each rise and fall of his chest as laboured as a child trying to inflate a balloon with a hippo sat on it. Pale pink blood poured from deep, ragged wounds littered across his torso, and Harry realised with rising horror that he couldn’t stubbornly deny it this time.

Thomas was going to die.

Shaking his head in defiance, Harry sat up on his heels. “Nuh-uh, pretty boy. You do NOT get to take a nap before me!” A few years ago Harry didn’t even know that he had a half-brother, but now he didn’t want to imagine an existence without him. Sure they had their fights and didn’t always see eye to eye on pretty much anything, but Thomas was family. The only family Harry had left. And there was nothing in this realm or in any other that was going to separate them. He stubbornly ignored the tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to channel magic, any magic, to heal Thomas’ wounds or cauterise them or something, but the bastard running water fizzled anything away before it could even begin to form properly.

Harry let out a desperate cry of fury and torment, fists slamming onto the soaked ground. There was no magic to save him, nothing to dress his wounds, not even anything to ease his pain as he bled out into the filthy water.

... But there was something, or rather someone, that he could feed on…

Blinking hard in an attempt to try to regain some focus in his tear-logged eyes, Harry glanced down at his half-brother. He was a vampire. He had to feed to regain strength, to heal, to not die… but he wasn’t a blood drinking Red or Black Court vampire. He was White Court.

More specifically... he was a Raith.

A deep shudder of disgust ran down Harry’s spine, but he knew he had no choice. If he didn’t help Thomas, he was going to die, and Harry had a feeling his own demise would come shortly after. On the other hand, he had no idea if Thomas was too far gone, if feeding him would only delay the inevitable and give whoever it was more time to torture him… but Harry decided the risk was worth it.

The idea of his own safety, that Thomas feeding from him could easily kill him if Thomas was too far gone to control it, wasn’t even an afterthought. It didn’t matter. His brother needed to survive.

“Hell’s bells, maybe I hope I do die. Then I won’t have to remember this…”

Kneeling by his brother’s side, Harry took a deep breath. And then another. Fuck, but he didn’t want to do this! The thought of it repulsed him, made him feel sick to his stomach, but then again, maybe that was just all the rancid water he’d been forced into drinking these last few days. This was disgusting and perverse… but it could be their only shot at freedom, and it was Thomas’ only shot at survival.

Harry very tentatively laid a hand down on Thomas’ bare thigh, instantly hissing a breath between his teeth as he felt how cold and lifeless the skin felt. It put him in mind of touching a marble worktop. That was an easier thought to digest than the thought of what he was about to do. He watched Thomas’ face, his closed eyelids, as he very slowly slid his hand up, but his brother didn’t respond. Too out of it from the pain and the blood loss, Harry assumed, as his own eyes blinked back tears again. The nausea rose again and he withdrew his hand like it was on fire, plummeting it into the running water like it could wash away the horror of what he knew he had to do.

He rubbed his hand over his forehead, taking a deep breath, and stared dark eyes into the door. “When I get out of here – when _we_ get out of here – this last few days is going to seem like a Victoria’s Secret daydream compared to what I will do to you.”

Staying staring at the door, letting his mind fill with rage and the nightmares he was going to inflict on whoever it was that had done this to him and his brother, Harry let his hand fall once more to Thomas. He let the fury take over as his fingers curled around Thomas’ limp cock, his hand shaking like a leaf in a hurricane as he stroked it, trying desperately to will some life into him. “Come on, asshole. Don't go prude on me now.”

For what felt like hours but was likely no more than a few minutes, Harry stroked Thomas' cock, each slide of his hand becoming more and more desperate as there was absolutely no response from the dying vampire. His breathing remained practically non-existent, the flesh flaccid and cold, not even the faintest signal that he was even aware that anything was happening to him. That nausea and bile rose in Harry's throat again, but this time it wasn't with disgust over having to jack off his dying brother – that had been firmly shouldered out of the way by pure, primal terror.

Harry had been about to give up, about to fall to the ground sobbing in defeat, when he felt it. It was the tiniest movement, the tiniest twitch beneath his fingers, but it was there. It was all that he needed.

“YES! Yes, you sick bastard!” Hope is a powerful drug, and Harry chugged it down like the last pill on earth as he stroked harder and faster, watching Thomas' face closely, a shit-eating grin splitting his face as he noticed the faintest hitch of his chest, a slightly deeper breath. It was working.

Those little hitches of Thomas' chest, the way his breathing seemed to be improving in time with the slowly growing hardness of his cock, was almost hypnotising to Harry. He was literally stroking life back into his brother, and he vaguely wondered in the back of his mind when that sick feeling had gone away. When had he started alternating his strokes, running his palm over the swelling head, instead of just keeping them utilitarian and simple for purpose? He wasn't entirely sure, and he found that he didn't really care.

When he caught himself wondering what Thomas might taste like, however, that bile rose again.

That was disgusting! He shouldn't be thinking that about his half-brother, the man he shared a mother with! That wasn't normal, it was sick! His hand faltered, falling away, but as it did Thomas immediately began to fade again, his breaths going shallow and weak, and Harry had to force himself to resume the vile task. Up and down. Up and down. Just getting the job done.

_But... was it really so bad? No-one would ever know, besides Thomas obviously, and he'd never say anything to anyone. He'd understand, right?_ The thoughts came unbidden and unwanted, and as much as Harry tried to force them away, they remained. He risked a glance down; Thomas' condition seemed to be stable, but he wasn't improving. His breaths were shallow, the gaping wounds not showing any sign of healing, the pale blood trickling away growing thinner and sparser. He needed more. More than Harry was willing to give, but... if he didn't, it would definitely be the end for Thomas, and most likely for himself soon after.

Trying to swallow down the lump in his throat, Harry stroked the palm of his hand over the head of Thomas' cock, curling his fingers to brush against the sensitive skin around the base of the head like he did when he was tugging one out himself. The reaction was instant, the cock in his hand jumping wildly, and Harry did it again. Was that a groan Thomas let out, or just a slightly deeper breath? It was impossible to tell over the sound of the running water, but suddenly Harry knew he wanted more. He wanted to hear him moan, wanted to hear the strength flooding back into him, and the smell of the tiny pool of precum on the tip of his cock was more appetising than all the Burger King meals in the world.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind tried to scream something, a warning, maybe, but he ignored it. Nothing in the world mattered more than having Thomas safe and well, and that was something that he could give him. Something that his mouth could provide.

Harry had never sucked a cock before, had never wanted to, but as his lips curled around Thomas' glans, it felt like he'd never wanted anything more. The taste of him was like nectar from the heavens, the weight of him in his mouth delightful in a way nothing else had ever been. It felt _right_ , and he wanted more. He swirled his tongue around the swollen head, delighted in the way it made the muscles in Thomas' thigh tremble beneath his spare hand, and that was _definitely_ a groan he heard that time. Better than any symphony orchestra, better than any Star Wars soundtrack.

Shifting slightly to give himself a better angle, Harry sank his lips around that beautiful length until he couldn't take any more, choking slightly before pulling back again, and the sound his lips made as he lapped at his sibling was nothing short of obscene. His own cock was rock hard, aching and already dripping into the water that flooded beneath them, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was _Thomas_. He was all that ever would matter, and Harry knew he was a fool that he hadn't realised that sooner.

With each bob of his head around that wonderful, swollen cock Harry felt better. Stronger. The world didn't matter any more. Nothing mattered any more. The edges of the world began to fade to grey, the cell and the water being replaced by a cosy, warm blanket. Safe and hot and all he had to focus on was the body beneath him and all the wonders it could give him. It was perfect. Nothing else would ever matter again.

Quite when he had buried his index finger to the knuckle into Thomas' tight ass, Harry wasn't sure. He couldn't remember doing it, could only recall the faint hiss it had caused, the sudden sharp intake of breath from Thomas that had made Harry grin so hard his face hurt. It was the purest, most primal sound, and Harry knew what he wanted. He wanted to be buried in that tight heat, to be swallowed by it. His heart pounded in his chest, cock leaping at the thought as he worked another finger into him, delighting in the way it made Thomas arch so beautifully, the adrenaline spiking through him even as the world began to fog. It was a warm embrace, rich as chocolate and he wanted to drown in it. It was the sweetest embrace he'd ever felt, and his eyes fluttered closed as everything began to fade.

The world was brought back into harsh, freezing cold focus as stars exploded behind his eyes, pain erupting through the side of his head as the punch connected.

“-KING IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?!? I ALMOST KILLED YOU!”

Harry couldn't move, couldn't focus on anything but the blinding white light from where Thomas socked him in the side of the head. The world was spinning hard, and Harry was sure if he wasn't already lay down he'd have fallen on his face. He heaved hard but there was nothing for his stomach to empty, the dry hacking making his throat burn. “Wanna scream a little louder, sunshine? Don't think they heard ya on the moon.”

Another blow connected, this time to the back of his head in a much less aggressive open-handed slap, but he could just _feel_ the fury radiating from Thomas as the vampire scolded him. “You nearly got yourself killed! What the hell was I supposed to do if you'd have died? What would that have done, for either of us?”

The world began to slowly stop spinning, and Harry allowed himself to finally open his eyes. The room was still dim, thank all the Gods, but he could clearly see that Thomas was... standing. He was standing and breathing enough to be yelling like a drama queen, and while the horrific coppery scent of blood was still in the air, the vampire was quite clearly not bleeding out like a matador's bull any more. Harry breathed a faint laugh. “You're welcome. I'd ask if you want to save the rest of the lecture for later, but we're not talking about this again. Ever.”

Even though the room was dim he could still see the furious working of Thomas' jaw, knew he was struggling not to yell more, but all he eventually did was mutter angrily. “No, this conversation is _not_ over.”

Wasn't that a pleasant thought? Harry wanted nothing more than to put what had happened into the 'Do Not Touch Ever' folder of his mind, but apparently Thomas had other ideas. Well, he could have ideas all he wanted. As far as Harry was concerned, it had never happened. Just a nightmare brought on by the _fucking kidnapping_. Speaking of. “Alright, Hell's Bells, Thomas. Sort your priorities and get us the hell out of here!”

Harry tried not to be offended by how easily Thomas, still wounded and weak, shouldered the door open. He'd loosened it, after all.

There were no alarms, no sirens, no signs of any other life at all as they half stumbled and half ran through the corridors, following instinct as they tried to make their way towards the front of the building. A mop leaned against a wall and Harry snatched it up, pulling the soaked and stinking head off. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in his hands, it was more than just a long stick of wood.

A thought occurred to him suddenly, making him reach out to snag Thomas' arm, stopping him in his tracks. “There might be others here, other people being held. We need to go back.”

The vampire shook his head, pulling his arm free from his little brother's grip. “Not a chance. We can't _do_ anything like this! We need to get out of here!” Seeing the stubborn, determined look in Harry's eyes, Thomas shook his head again, taking his turn to yank on Harry's arm. “Come on! We can get Michael or Kincaid or someone. Everyone, if we have to! Come back when we've got more than a fucking mop handle between us and whatever the hell this thing is.”

For as much as Harry hated it, he knew that Thomas was right. Whatever this thing was, it had captured a vampire and a wizard easily, and it knew how to keep them caught. Well, clearly it hadn't predicted just what lengths Harry would go to in order to keep his brother alive, to get them both out of that horrific scenario.

For a moment the memory bubbled back to the surface, just what he _did_ in that watery cell to get them out. The feel of Thomas' skin beneath his fingertips, the noises he made, the weight of him against his tongue...

Harry shuddered with more than just the cold, feeling that bile in his stomach again, and he absolutely _hated_ that little heat that rose in the pit of his stomach. Oh God, he so did not want to have any kind of conversation about that, ever. Maybe if he found a way to bathe his brain in bleach, he could forget the whole rotten mess.

Eventually they came to a foyer, elegant stone stairs leading upwards to one side and a massive set of oak doors set into one wall. Outside he could hear the hammering of rain, and it was the second most perfect sound he'd heard in the past few days. The joy that rose in his heart was cut off suddenly though by a shriek coming from the stairs, an almost metallic-sounding wailing of fury that drowned out all other noise. Harry didn't wait to find out what the fuck was making such an unnatural sound, just waved the mop handle in that direction.

All of the anger. All of the fury. All of the humiliation and fear and panic and horror he'd felt over his time in captivity. All of the pain and misery and hunger, and even the lust that he was stubbornly denying was real. He felt it all in an instant, let it wash through him, let it take him over, and with a scream that drowned out even the wailing, he let it all flash out through the makeshift staff. “FUEGO!”

A ball of fire flew in the direction of the wailing, hammering into whatever the creature was like a solar rocket, but Harry didn't stop to check what was going on. He wheeled the handle around, steering his barely controlled, wild energy at the monstrous doors, and somewhere in the maddened screaming another word escaped him. “ASSANTIUS!”

The ancient doors exploded outwards and they ran headlong out into the rain, Harry still screaming like a lunatic, adrenaline and terror and rage driving his every step. He didn't know how long they ran, kept going until the sodden grass was replaced by tarmac, and it wasn't until his head hammered against the ground that he realised he was falling. His energy was gone, sapped from him by the spells and Thomas' feeding and the days of no food and barely any sleep, and the last thing he was aware of was his brother shouting at him to get up before the world went black.

************

Harry had been out for two days, according to Thomas. He had collapsed on a road, and a driver that had passed by had clearly called the cops, because one had turned up shortly after. Thomas had lied, of course. Whatever the fuck was in that mansion, if it had survived the fireball, human police weren't equipped to deal with it. They'd been out on a bender, he'd said. A bachelor party gone a little too wild, couldn't remember all the details. The cop had been disbelieving, especially considering Thomas' body looked like he'd lost a battle with a particular pissed off dominatrix, but had driven them to Harry's apartment anyway. A fine for indecent exposure was just the rancid cherry on the shit sundae after the past few days they'd had.

Mouse hadn't left Harry's side since Thomas had hauled them both into the basement apartment and locked the heavy doors behind them. Quick phone calls had revealed that Murphy had been stopping in to feed him and Mister between her frantic searches for the pair – they were fine, yes they'd tell her everything, Harry just needed to rest first. That hadn't stopped her coming around anyway though, and the first thing that Harry had become aware of when he came round had been the smell of lasagne wafting through from the kitchen.

“Hey, don't try and get up yet. Rest. You've been through a lot.”

The hand on his shoulder pushed him back down against the pillows, and Harry had to blink hard before his eyes would focus enough to make Thomas' face be anything more than a blurry mess. When he could focus on him, though, he really wished that he couldn't. His half-brother's face was sallow, dark circles surrounding his eyes which were pale and exhausted-looking. Dark marks littered the skin around his neck and wrists – ligature marks, Harry's slowly wakening brain helpfully provided. Bruises littered the normally porcelain skin where it disappeared up under the sleeves of his shirt, and Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I need to rest? I've seen roadkill looking healthier than you.”

Thomas smiled, the action not reaching his eyes, and just gave a roll of his shoulders. “Sleep only does so much. I need...” He hesitated, sighing softly. “It doesn't matter, I guess. I need to get back to work. You gonna be alright to fend for yourself for a few hours, Sleeping Beauty?”

He couldn't seriously be thinking of going back to work looking like that, could he? He needed to feed, sure, but... There would be questions. It wasn't safe for Thomas to be out like that – he looked weak, and any who knew what he was would try and take advantage of that. Besides that, what if he couldn't stop? What if those gentle caresses became more, if his starvation overtook his sensibilities, his demon forcing him to feed more than he ever would normally? Harry shook his head. “It's not safe, Thomas. You know that. Not for you or for anyone else. Just...” Harry couldn't believe he was going to suggest it, but the words spilled out anyway. “Stay here. Feed on me. It fucking sucks, but it's safer.”

The words clearly took Thomas off-guard, the vampire quirking a brow in amusement but the expression fading into a frown as he realised the sincerity in his brother's words. “You can't be serious? _Look_ at you! You can barely sit up, never mind survive being fed on again! I love you, little brother, but that mutt has more brains than you do.”

Mouse gave a little 'wuff' of agreement, and Harry frowned at him. “I'm not saying use me like a Vegas buffet! Just.. A Happy Meal, until it's safer for everyone for you to go out again. If nothing else, Thomas... You were _tortured_. We need to maybe talk about that before going out playing happy citizens again, yeah?”

The look on Thomas' face was hard to read, the frown not quite matching with the intensity of his pale eyes, but after a long moment he simply shook his head and stood, shrugging into the leather biker's jacket that had been slung over the back of a chair. “Sleep, Harry. You'll feel better for it. I'll be back later.”

Watching his half-brother go, hearing the door lock behind him, Harry tried to process what the hell was happening. He didn't _want_ to do those things! Thomas was his sibling, for God's sake! He didn't want any of that at all, just wanted his big brother to be safe. He should be relieved, should be grateful that Thomas had other avenues to get what he needed.

So why the hell did the rejection hurt so badly?


	2. Good Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arranges the raid on the building where they had been held captive, and Thomas desperately tries to avoid talking about things. Luckily, a murderous many-legged demon shows up to keep them company!

Kincaid closed the door behind him as he left and Harry let out a deep breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Every meeting with the mercenary left Harry feeling like he’d just survived a meeting with a Tyrannosaurus, which in a way he supposed wasn’t too far from the truth. Even with all the cult leaders and necromancers and horrifying beasts from the beyond that Harry had met in his life, he had a feeling that Kincaid had the power to make them all look like toddlers on their way to church. He was just very grateful that the scion was on his side. For now, at least.

A shudder ran down his spine at the thought of his chances of survival should the Hellhound turn on him, and Harry headed back to flop down onto the sofa near the roaring fire. Since escaping from that hellhole five days ago he felt like he hadn’t been able to get warm, like the cold had bitten so deep into him that it had drained every shred of heat from his body. He hated it. Truly hated it. But what he hated more was all this sitting around trying to come up with a plan while there were potentially other people still being held captive in that place. He hadn’t been able to do anything at first, had been too weak and exhausted, but with each passing day his strength returned and plans were being set into motion.

Tomorrow night, himself, Thomas, Kincaid, Murphy and Michael were going to go and pay whatever monster that was a visit.

It was a truly terrifying thought if Harry was being completely honest with himself. Whatever it was, it had clearly had zero difficulty capturing and holding a wizard and a vampire, and if Harry hadn’t done what he’d done to give them a chance to escape, they would probably have both died in that flooded little cell. Another shudder ran down Harry’s spine and he couldn’t tell whether it was from cold, anxiety, or the memories of exactly what he had done to save them that day. Maybe a bit of all three.

He’d worked with all the different members of their hunting party many times before, but never all at the same time for very obvious reasons. While Michael was thankfully past the point of wanting to execute Thomas there was still distrust and wariness between them, and Harry was dreading the potential powder-keg of Michael and Kincaid having to fight side by side. They were practically the dictionary definition of polar opposites, and if push came to shove Harry wasn’t sure how well they’d be able to put aside their own prejudices to be able to work together. Murphy was fine with both Thomas and Michael but well… When it came to Kincaid, Harry was pretty sure he’d have to tear them apart from each other in one way or another. He just hoped they’d be attached at the lips rather than the end of daggers. It was a messy situation and he was dreading their own in-fighting almost as much as he was dreading facing down whatever _that_ thing was again. He could have just gone in with Thomas and maybe Michael, tried to do it subtly, but frankly, fuck subtle. It was time to nuke the site from orbit. It was the only way to be sure.

With Kincaid gone the apartment was quiet once more, Mouse’s snoring and the crackling of the fire the only real sounds filling the air. Thomas wasn’t home but that was no surprise really – he’d barely been home at all the last few days. He’d crept in at night when Harry was sleeping and was gone before dawn, the only sign he’d been there at all being the blankets piled up on the couch. Harry didn’t know where he’d been all this time, but tonight he was determined to find out. He’d napped during the day and his kettle had been working overtime to keep a steady stream of caffeine in his system. Whatever time Thomas decided to turn up, Harry would be ready for him.

It was long past one in the morning when Harry was disturbed from his reading by the silent alarm ringing in his head, the charm he’d placed on the front door doing its part to let him know Thomas was home. But he waited – he knew if he rushed out now, Thomas would simply slip back out of the door and disappear into the night. No, he had to wait for his sibling to get settled and comfortable and unable to just flee because _God damnit they needed to have this conversation_!

For a few long moments there was the sound of quiet rustling, no doubt Thomas getting settled down onto his makeshift bed on the sofa, but eventually the soft sounds fell silent again and Harry braced himself for what was about to happen. In his head he’d been running through what he wanted to say for days, trying to figure out how on earth he could explain things to Thomas and make him realise that they really DID have to talk about what happened in that cell, but the truth was that he still wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say. I mean, what in the hell _should_ you say to the half-sibling you blew to save both your lives? He couldn’t remember that ever being covered in a movie. Even Luke and Leia only kissed. It would have been a VERY different movie if Leia had been knuckle-deep in Luke.

The memory of what had happened caused a nasty pool of nausea to swirl in his stomach, and Harry shook his head stubbornly as if that could clear it. He could throw up (again) later. For now he had to suck it up and finally get this mess sorted out.

Creeping out of his bedroom, Harry made his way over to the pile of blankets on the couch. There was no movement or sound coming from them at all – Thomas must have dropped straight off to sleep. Poor bastard, he’d had an even worse time in that cell. Harry hadn’t seen him since that first night after he’d woken up, but he hoped that Thomas was in a better state than he’d been at the time. The vampire had been like a walking corpse, sallow and broken from the torture he’d been forced to endure. Harry just hoped he’d been keeping his demon well in check while doing what was necessary to help himself heal. Harry crept up to the couch and pulled back the blanket.

Four pairs of giant black eyes blinked up at him.

He didn’t remember his sibling having eight eyes. Or bristles. Or giant fangs.

“……….. You’re not Thomas.”

Harry quickly dropped the blanket back over the head of the creature before leaping back with a _very_ manly shriek of terror as the pony-sized spider demon lurched towards him. The massive creature got tangled in the blanket, the frustrated snapping of its jaws sounding like branches breaking in a winter forest. An almost deafening ROAR of sound surged towards them as Mouse charged in from the bedroom, his thick coat casting a dim glow of pale blue light around him like a halo. The demon lashed out with a leg but the Temple Dog was quicker, latching on to the bristly limb and tearing into it with his massive jaws.

Harry tried to fall back and grab his staff but the demon was fast and powerful, easily dragging Mouse along behind it as it chased after Harry and knocked him to the ground by swiping his legs out from under him. Harry landed on heavily with a loud OOF, the wind knocked out of him and the world spinning like a fairground ride. He was still so weak, so exhausted from what had happened. But fuck, he didn’t survive all of that just to become an insect’s dinner!

Rolling over onto his back, Harry looked up at exactly the wrong moment. Looking into the mouth of that thing was like looking into a black hole. A very slime and poison-filled black hole. There were massive fangs dripping a clear toxin and beyond that there was… nothing. He couldn’t see the back of the spider’s mouth, couldn’t see down its throat. It was like there was the creature’s mouth and then just infinite, empty, inescapable void beyond its jaws.

And oh God, Harry was glad his bed shorts were a dark colour after seeing that.

With another manly wail of existential dread Harry reached out blindly and grabbed the first thing that his hand touched and swung it at the spider’s head. The teddy bear bounced off it mockingly, the demon’s chittering growing louder and faster like it was laughing at him. How the FUCK was it laughing even as Mouse was doing his damnedest to tear one of its limbs off?!? That feeling of sheer horror was becoming overwhelming, and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming that something was _wrong_ here. How the hell did a monster demon like this one break past his wards to get in? How was it ignoring Mouse tearing its limbs apart? Why was it so adamant on getting to him that it wasn’t simply dealing with the dog first?

With that never-ending void looming over him it was all Harry could do to grab the bracelet of tiny metal shields around his wrist and surge willpower into it, forcing his barrier shield into being. The demon let out a shrill cry of fury, those venom-soaked fangs bouncing off the magical shield, but the shield buckled under the assault and Harry knew it would not last long. Oh God, but after all he’d been through, dying to a _spider_ was just embarrassing!

The spider launched another assault against the shield and Harry could feel it buckling, about to break, when suddenly the spider reared up with an agonised squeal that made the glass rattle in the windows. It shook and writhed in pain, spinning around and finally turning its back to its target. Harry took the chance to quickly scramble to his feet, his eyes meeting with Thomas’ momentarily before the vampire swung his sabre again, another of the demon’s legs getting severed from its bloated body. Thick black goop spurted from the dismembered limb, spraying like a hose all over the carpet, and already another leg was started to form from the stub where one had been hacked off. Harry’s eyes bulged. “It’s a hydra! A Spydra!”

Thomas grated his teeth as he fought against the spydra, looking altogether far too dashing in Harry’s opinion. The vampire swung the sword again, parrying against a bristly leg that was trying to disarm him. “Hell’s Bells, Harry! Stop quipping and help me KILL the fucking thing!”

Mouse let out a frustrated _WOOF_ of agreement before launching at the thing again, black ectoplasm dripping from his jaws and coating the fur on his chest and neck.

“Okay calm down! No need to shout!” Harry quickly grabbed up the old Tibetan spear he kept in the umbrella stand by the door and moved to flank the massive spydra, jabbing into its bloated body as he worked with Thomas to keep its attention divided. “Now you’ve decided to finally show up, we really need to talk.”

Thomas momentarily stared over at him with a look of absolute bewilderment before deftly parrying an attack. “Now? Really? You want to talk NOW?!?”

Swinging the spear in a cresting manoeuvre, Harry opened up a large slice down the creature’s side, his stomach lurching as he saw it almost immediately start knitting closed again. “Hey, it’s not my fault you keep avoiding me!”

A barked laugh of sheer disbelief erupted from Thomas, the vampire hacking off a still-forming leg and causing the creature to spin and shriek in agony. “YOU’RE the one who said you didn’t want to talk about it! I was trying to stop things being weird!”

“WEIRD?!?” Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh in bafflement. “Thomas, I… I _sucked your cock_ to save us both! Everything about the whole fucking thing is weird!” For the first time in as long as he had known him, Harry could have sworn he saw Thomas blush just faintly at that. What was even more telling was that there was no immediate quip back, the vampire seeming to just battle the spydra demon with single-minded determination. Harry brought the spear down hard on the demon’s head as it launched at him again, the creature clearly struggling now it was so overwhelmed. “Look… I don’t regret what I did. We were in a bad way, and it needed to be done. We can’t just keep pretending like it didn’t happen. Where’ve you even been these past few days anyway? Your work isn’t open that long.”

For the briefest moment a flicker of sadness crossed Thomas’ pale blue eyes. “… I was fired. I took off without warning for nearly a week, couldn’t give a proper excuse where I’d been that whole time. So I’ve just… been about. Keeping myself busy… Feeding off the hookers down by the railway arches.”

So stunned was he by that news, Harry didn’t see the swipe of the spydra’s leg coming until it was too late. He hit the ground hard again, letting out a deep groan as Mouse stood on his back to fend off the demon. The weight of the massive dog was crushing, and he wriggled to try and break free with no success. “Shit, Thomas, I’m sorry. I know you liked that place. GET OFF, MOUSE! But look… Come back home, please? We can work this out. I don’t want it to be weird. You’re the only family I’ve got left.” Mouse’s position shifted, the giant dog crushing down onto his kidneys. “OWW SORRY! The only _non-pet_ family I have left. Just… I don’t care what you want. Or don’t want. Just com-“

Harry got cut off as the demon suddenly let out an ear-piercing screech of agony and the pressure was released off his back, the wizard finally being able to sit up and see what the hell was going on. Thomas had clearly moved around and grabbed the spear when Harry had dropped it on being knocked down, and the spydra now flailed wildly but couldn’t move from where it had been impaled to the ground by the spear through its bloated body. Huh. Effective! Now all they had to do was wait for sunrise for it to dissipate and return to wherever it had been summoned from.

“Who do you think sent it?” Thomas made sure the spydra wasn’t going anywhere, using his sabre and a few of the other weapons around the apartment to securely pin it to the ground like a moth to a mountboard.

Harry shook his head quickly, waving a finger at his sibling. “Nuh-uh! No changing the subject! Priorities!”

With a dramatic wave of his hand, Thomas gestured to the skewered demon. “Working out who sent the giant eight-legged freak to kill you ISN’T the priority right now?”

Harry folded his arms and stubbornly shook his head. “Nope! People are always trying to kill me. That’s nothing new. You are my priority and for fuck’s sake, Thomas! I don’t want you feeding on random people! It’s not safe for you OR for them! Don’t you think those men and women have a tough enough time of things as it is?”

Thomas let out a frustrated sigh, flapping his hands irritably. “Well, what do you propose then, huh? I’ve lost my JOB, Harry! The one way I could feed safely for everyone involved! I don’t know what to DO! I’m tired and _hungry_ and I’m so scared, Harry! I haven’t slept in days because I’m so fucking SCARED. You don’t know what they did to me in that place! I can’t go back there. I’m just so scared, Harry.”

For the first time ever, Harry saw tears rolling down his brother’s cheeks. For all the horrors he had seen in his life, nothing had ever scarred his soul more than seeing his brother weep in sheer terror.

Without really realising what he was doing, Harry moved forward and embraced Thomas tightly. He felt something brush against his calf but he mule-kicked the demon’s leg away, ignoring the quiet hiss it let loose. After a long moment Thomas returned the hug just as fiercely, his tears dampening the shoulder of Harry’s shirt. Harry reached up with a broad hand, gently stroking it over Thomas’ raven hair. “It’s going to be okay. I swear on the grave of our mother, I won’t let anything like that happen to you again. Me and the others are going to go back there tomorrow, and we’re going to end this.”

Thomas pulled back a little to look up then, the fear clear as day in his eyes. “If you’re going back, I’m coming with you. I need to see it end. I need to see it destroyed.”

Harry wasn’t really aware that he was still stroking through Thomas’ hair, the black curls like silk through his fingers. He stared into Thomas’ eyes for a long moment, seeing the sheer determination there, and eventually nodded in agreement. “Alright, if you’re sure… What _is_ it, Thomas? What could survive a fireball to the face like that?”

After a pause that seemed to stretch for an infinity, Thomas simply shook his head with a look of despair. “Honestly? I don’t know. But it was bad, Harry. It was…” He trailed off, his body shivering with anxiety.

Harry wrapped his broad arms around his brother again and started to gently steer him around the spydra kebab and towards the couch. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. And in the meantime, no more feeding on sex workers, okay?”

A deep frown crossed Thomas’ brow, but he nodded in agreement and allowed himself to be sat down onto the couch, helping to pull one of the thick blankets around the pair of them. “Well, what am I supposed to do, then? I’m still weak, and I’ll need my strength if we’re going back there tomorrow.”

Harry didn’t have a good answer to that, so for several hours they just sat in comfortable silence, recovering from the battle and waiting for the sun to rise. After what felt like an eternity, Harry finally let out a loud, dramatic sigh. “Oh, I’m probably gonna regret this.” Turning quickly, he grabbed Thomas’ head between his hands and pulled him close, locking their lips together. For a brief moment Thomas tensed and wriggled, trying to pull away, but his wall quickly broke and he returned the kiss fiercely, his pale blue eyes flashing with a silver spark as his tongue snaked against Harry’s lips, seeking entrance.

Mouse simply rolled his eyes and wandered off into the bedroom, leaving them to it as the sun began to rise and the demon dissipated into ectoplasmic goop.


End file.
